


The Boat Race

by Flantastic



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys thinking with their dicks, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-06-03 14:24:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19465843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flantastic/pseuds/Flantastic
Summary: James Bond has been on the losing Cambridge Boat Race team for the past three years.  He has one more race before he leaves University... just one more chance to win.After their Coxswain manages to get himself expelled just two days before the race, the Cambridge team are desperate for a replacement.  Enter the man who led the Oxford team to victory three times;  the notorious Thomas 'Q' Carter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can hardly believe it, this is my 50th fic since joining the 00Q fandom. I've been hanging around this corner of AO3 since 2013 and I'm having just as much fun with it now as I did the day I realised that James Bond had one hell of a cute new quartermaster...
> 
> Thanks for reading. You guys are awesome, seriously. x

THURSDAY

James Bond was strolling up to the library of Peterhouse College when he heard a familiar voice shout behind him.

“Bond? I say! Bond!” He turned on his heel to see Bill Tanner hurrying to catch him up. Bill was a fellow rower for the Cambridge University boat team but actually attended Homerton College a couple of miles away. James was surprised to see him on his campus.

“Hello Bill,” James said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“An absolute sodding fuck up, that’s what.” Bill grumbled. “You got a few minutes?” 

James nodded.

“Of course. What’s up?”

“Not here mate. Have you got time to come to The Eagle with me?” Bill asked, looking mightily pissed off about something.

“If you like.” James said cautiously. It was only half past eleven and Tanner wasn’t known to be much of a pub-goer so quite what had got him so riled up since James saw him at training earlier that morning was beyond him. He followed Tanner out of the main square and they made for The Eagle public house. They each ordered a pint of lime and soda as they would both be training again later that day and then tucked themselves away in a corner.

“Now what’s all this about?” James asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s Denbigh. He’s been expelled.”

James put his glass back down on it’s beermat with an audible clonk.

“You have got to be shitting me. C?” James was stunned. “But… they can’t… the race is this Saturday. They can’t expel our Coxswain!”

Every year since 1856 the universities of Oxford and Cambridge had held a boat race on the 4.2-mile stretch of the Thames in West London, from Putney to Mortlake. It was a big deal, covered live by the BBC and watched by millions of people around the world. At the start of every academic year hundreds of students joined the Cambridge University Boat Club, hoping to be one of the nine men and nine women chosen to be on the first teams. James had been on the Blue Boat, the racing team, for the past three years and was about to race for the fourth and final time. It was Tanner’s second year. Denbigh, their Coxswain, had been due to make his debut and they had been training with him exclusively for over six months.

“No _can’t_ about it I’m afraid,” Bill said glumly, “He’s already gone.”

“What the hell happened?” James demanded.

“Well, you know how he was always bragging about how he sold a bit of pot? Well someone must have tipped off the police. He was raided last night and they found half a kilo of coke in his rooms along with enough pills to keep the whole of Cambridge off its tits for a week!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” James moaned, holding his head in his hands. “What a dickhead.”

“He tried to tell them it wasn’t his but they had evidence not only that he’d paid for the coke but that he’d said selling it was going to finance his PhD.”

“Evidence?”

“He bought it off an undercover copper; they recorded him.”

“Jesus!”

Max Denbigh was academically brilliant but had the common sense of a gnat. James was the one who had given him the nickname ‘C’. Everyone thought it was C for ‘Coxswain’, in homage to the notorious Oxford Coxswain, Thomas ‘Q’ Carter, a little terrier of a man who had led his team to victory three times in the past three years. In fact, it was C for ‘cretin’, something James had realised was an apt description for Denbigh the moment he’d met him.

“He’s in custody now and the university have kicked him out so he’s automatically off the team. We are officially Cox-less.”

“Do the other guys know yet?” James asked, thinking about the rest of the squad.

“Mallory told me. Villiers said he would tell Ronson. Trevelyan offered to tell everyone else.”

James sighed.

“What the fuck are we going to do Bill?”

“No idea mate but I got in touch with the club. Mansfield has agreed to see us when we go back for afternoon training.”

Olivia Mansfield was the president of the rowing club. She was easy to get on with but she was a hard taskmaster when it came to the squad’s training. From Tuesday to Friday, rowers and Coxswains met at Goldie Boathouse at six-thirty in the morning for land-training. These sessions either took place on rowing machines or with free weights. At nine they returned home to eat, work and attend lectures, labs and supervisions. By one-thirty they arrived back at Goldie for the half-hour drive to Ely for the afternoon water training session, returning around five-thirty. On Fridays, another gym-based session took the place of the trip to Ely. On weekends, the squad arrived at Goldie at seven-thirty. They then travelled straight to Ely for two water training sessions with a short break in between, returning to Cambridge by two-thirty.

It was a punishing schedule and one that ran for seven months in the run-up to the race. James stared into his pint. He couldn’t believe it might all have been for nothing.

“We could always use Boothroyd…” Bill suggested timidly. James scowled at him.

“No. We couldn’t.”

They’d worked with Geoffrey Boothroyd the year before. James sat in the Stroke position in the boat, directly in front of the Coxswain who sat in the stern, and it was his responsibility along with the Coxswain to set the rowing rate for the rest of the crew. Boothroyd was older than the rest of the team at thirty-two and had the most experience of anyone on the crew but his timing was terrible, completely out of sync with James more often than not. He also couldn’t steer for shit, leading them into shallower, slower water for a pastime it seemed. Bill’s seat, being one of the strongest rowers in the team, was in the Bow position at the head of the boat, behind Gareth Mallory. Even situated right down the other end, they’d heard the massive arguments that had occurred between James and Geoff, sometimes mid-race. Geoff was still training with the club but James refused to row with him any longer, blaming him squarely for their defeat in the Boat Race the previous year.

“Well, let’s wait to see what Mansfield has to say. She might know of someone…”

“Maybe.” James replied glumly.

~00Q~

They met up in the locker room at the club house at one-thirty. Ordinarily they would be heading straight out to Ely to row on the water but today was different. They were Cox-less. Mallory had been huddled, talking to Alec Trevelyan and their American crew-member Felix Leiter but he stood up when he saw James and Bill enter.

“Bond. There you are. You’ve heard?” 

“I have.” James said.

“We’ve been talking. If it comes to it, do you think you can work with Boothroyd again?”

James plonked himself down onto the bench next to Ronson and sighed.

“Fuck it. You know how I feel about him…”

“I know man but we can’t race without a Cox.” Alec said.

“I know!” James snapped. “But the man’s a bloody idiot who absolutely will not listen to a word I say. He seems determined to put me off my stroke every bloody time we end up in a boat together!”

“Mansfield told me she had someone else in mind.” Villiers said. “She wouldn’t tell me who though…”

“Probably because it’s horseshit.” Robinson grumbled. “C was the best we had. All the other Coxie trainees this year were complete shite compared to him. I’ll bet you anything she’s bringing back Boothroyd; she just didn’t want to forewarn us in case one of us tipped off Bond and he ran for the hills.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” James groused. “This is my last year. My last chance. I graduate in a couple of months and I’ll be fucked if I don’t get to win this race at least once after flogging my guts out training for four years!”

“That’s the spirit, Bond.” Mansfield said, walking into the room.

Ordinarily, women weren’t allowed in the men’s locker rooms but Olivia Mansfield had proved time and time again during her tenure that she didn’t particularly care for rules, especially when they stopped her from doing exactly what she wanted. At a little over five-foot-tall and just twenty-four years old she looked sweet enough with her wide smile and cute pixie-cut hairstyle but the rowers had soon learned that she was not a person to be messed with. She was passionate about Cambridge finally winning after three years of both the men’s and women’s teams losing. She was about to fill the role of Coxswain in the women’s team for the fourth time.

“Right.” She said decisively. “Denbigh was an absolute arse and has completely stuffed us up by getting himself thrown out of uni. We need to deal with this as quickly as possible and I did consider just going with the Goldie crew.” Nobody said anything but Bond glanced around the room to see that everyone was as shocked as he was at the thought of the second boat crew getting to race. It hadn’t occurred to him that their Blue Boat might not get to race at all. “The fact is though, they’re not as good as you. They’re not as fast and not as co-ordinated so we’re going for plan B.”

“Which is?” James asked.

Mansfield turned to him.

“Firmly on your shoulders Bond. As Stroke it is your job to set the pace but it’s the Coxswain’s role to adapt that pace to the race and steering requirements. I have a new Cox for you. It’s going to be your role to work with him and co-ordinate with him. You have two days to make this work.”

“You still haven’t told us who this new Cox is.” James pointed out.

“Oh? Haven’t I? Hold on a second, I’ll go and get him.”

With a barely concealed smirk she left the room.

“So, not Boothroyd?” Leiter said quietly. “Any ideas, Mallory?”

Mallory had been dating Mansfield for a few months but he just shrugged.

“Nope.”

There wasn’t any more time to speculate as the door opened then and Mansfield returned, followed by their new Coxswain. James heard Alec mutter _what the fuck?_ under his breath.

What the fuck, indeed.

“Gentlemen. I’d like to introduce you all to your new Coxswain, Thomas Carter.”

“Call me Q.” The young man smiled.

James was stunned. This was the little shit who’d led the Oxford team to victory for the past three years. What the hell was he doing standing in the Cambridge locker room?

“Q, let me introduce the team. First up we have Gareth Mallory and Bill Tanner, our Bow Crew. Their technical prowess is incomparable, especially when working together. Next up, our power house, the middle four; Sebastian Ronson, Charles Robinson, Daniel Villiers and Felix Leiter. Lastly, our Stern Pair, Alec Trevelyan and our Stroke, James Bond.”

Q look at each man as he was introduced, his gaze finally resting on James.

“So _you’re_ the Stroke who won’t listen to his Coxswain.” Q said.

“I… _excuse_ me?” James exclaimed.

“Geoffrey Boothroyd is studying Engineering Science with me at Gonville & Caius.” He replied coolly. “He told me you had him thrown off the Blue Boat after the race last year.”

“He what?” James demanded. “That tosser!”

“So, you didn’t disagree with him every time he spoke then?” James opened his mouth to reply but Q carried on. “I’m not going to put up with childish behaviour like that Bond. We don’t have time for those kinds of petulant games. You’re going to have to suck it up and do as I say when I say if we’ve any chance of winning the race on Saturday.”

James opened his mouth to bawl out the arrogant berk but Mansfield spoke first;

“Excellent. I can see you two are going to get along just fine. As you all know, Q has been on the winning Oxford team for the past three years. Luckily for us he gained his first in Mathematics and Computer Science last summer and moved to Gonville & Caius this year to continue his studies. I tried to recruit him at the start of the year but he wanted to take the year off from competing. We’re all very grateful that he’s agreed to help us out at such short notice.”

Q smiled at her and James might have noticed how cute he was if he hadn’t been so fucking annoyed with him.


	2. Chapter 2

They drove down to Ely in two cars. Mallory took Q, Villiers, Ronson and Robinson in his beat-up old Land Rover which meant Bond, Tanner and Leiter hitched a ride with Trevelyan in the classic BMW his father had bought him for his previous birthday. Leiter called shotgun so James sat in the back with Tanner. 

He was fuming.

Much to the amusement of everyone else.

“Come on Bond!” Tanner said, sounding way too jolly for James’s liking. “He’s one of the best there is! How can this be a bad thing?”

“Because he’s a prick!” James retorted.

The first time he’d noticed him, the first year James had raced, Q had stood and stared at James as he’d conducted a post-race interview with the BBC. The little snot had looked as if he was barely preventing himself from pissing himself laughing at James through the whole thing. The following year, after his traditional post-race dunking in the Thames by his crew, Q had stood next to James and shaken himself like a dog, soaking James’s trousers. Last year he’d wandered around whistling ‘row, row, row your boat’ every time James had got near him. It was as if he’d lived to annoy James. He told the guys in the car that, but they just laughed.

“Of course, he did!” Trevelyan said. “He was going to take every opportunity to annoy the opposing team’s Stroke! He’s on our side now though mate.”

“He’s still a prick though. Barrelling into the locker room and having a go at me like that.” James grumbled.

“He just wanted to lay down the law.” Leiter said. “You… well, you know.”

“I know what?” James demanded.

“You have got a bit of a reputation.” Tanner cut in. “As being a bit, well, difficult. Especially after the whole Boothroyd thing…”

“ _The whole Boothroyd thing?”_ James queried acidly.

“Look. You’re a fantastic oarsman. There’s no denying that.” Bill said. “But Boothroyd was a pretty good Coxswain and you did kind of run him out of the team…”

“I did not!” James exclaimed but even as he spoke he wondered if Bill might not have a point. Boothroyd had been a stubborn twat, insisting time and time again that his way was the best but James had been just as pig-headed…

“You kind of did, mate,” Trevelyan said, “and what use is a Cox that the Stroke won’t listen to?”

“But he couldn’t steer for shit!” James protested.

“True. He did cock up on occasions but how many times did he cock up right after you’d lost your rag at him?” Tanner asked.

James wanted to answer him but found he didn’t know what to say. Were they right? Had James been unreasonable? He’d just wanted what was best for the team and as a result he’d landed them with a drug-dealing imbecile who’d got himself expelled two days before the most important race of James’s life. Tanner spoke again.

“Just give Q a go.” He said gently. “He’s good. We all know he is.”

James nodded. He would try.

~00Q~

The other car had got to the training ground at Ely before them (which was hardly surprising as Mallory had a habit of driving like a nutcase) and the rest of the team were on the slipway taking the cover off their boat when they got there. Bond and the rest joined them in getting ready, fetching their oars from the training boathouse and positioning them by the water. Through all their activity Bond kept half an eye on Q. He’d changed out of his regular clothes and was now wearing a tracksuit top and shorts like the rest of the team. The man was standing motionless, watching them all like a hawk. Once the boat was at the top of the ramp, upside down on its rack he said loudly; 

“ _Hands on_ , crew!”

The rowers hesitated, all surprised to be hearing Q shouting a command. After a moment they all got into position around the boat, leaning over to grip the edge.

“ _Lift!”_

They all stood up smoothly.

“ _Walk it forward!”_

James and the rest started to move, carrying the boat down to the water. Q circled them, keeping an eye on the rudder beneath the boat and making sure it didn’t catch. It was undoubtedly all very professional but quite annoying as far as James was concerned. They were all perfectly capable of putting the boat into the wet stuff without being babied. James was about to slow down to allow Mallory and Tanner to bring to Bow of the boat down to the side of the marina when Q shouted again.

“ _Swing the Bow!”_

James gritted his teeth, remembering the conversation in the car and trying not to get annoyed. He would try. He would try. They only had two days…

“ _Over the heads! Ready! Press!”_ The rowers all lifted as one. Well, almost. James was so busy trying not to lose his temper that he missed the last command, pushing the boat up over his head half a second late.

“Concentrate Bond!” Q snapped. James turned his head to tell him to get stuffed but Q carried on; “ _Take an inside grip!”_ They all moved to the edge of the boat closest to the water. “ _Find the edge!”_ They all moved to feel the edge of the water with their toes. “ _Roll to the water! Ready! Down_!” Q hovered as the crew hoisted the boat and placed it gently on the water. He immediately stepped into the water so he could steady the boat as it floated. “ _Get your blades!”_

James and the others trudged back up the ramp to grab their oars. 

“Bossy little shit, ain’t he?” Trevelyan muttered. James looked up and Alec winked at him. “Wonder what he’s like in the sack?”

James scowled at him. He’d come out as bisexual to the team the previous year and they’d all been supportive but Alec had taken it to another level, mercilessly teasing James about wanting to shag anything that moved and constantly trying to set him up on dates.

“Shut up.”

“I bet it would be the perfect blend of fucking and fighting with him…”

“ _Shut up!_ ” James hissed.

“Just look at how short his shorts are…”

“For fuck’s sake Alec!” James snapped.

“If you’re quite finished ladies?”

Q’s voice was amused and James looked up to see the rest of the team were already in the process of fixing their oars onto the boat. He felt himself flush, annoyed at being caught slacking like that, and hurried down to set his oar in place. Once they’d all finished, Q started again.

“ _Water side! Slide your blades across. One foot in and down_ …” Tanner, Ronson, Leiter and Trevelyan sat in alternate seats so their oars were all on the side of the boat facing the water. Q held the boat steady as they stepped in and sat down, settling and tying their feet into the shoes which were attached to their foot plates. Once they were all settled they extended their oars to balance the boat. “ _Dock side! One foot in and down.”_ Mallory, Robinson, Villiers and Bond took their positions and tied their feet in. They held off pushing out their oars as Q shoved the boat to set it adrift and nimbly hopped in. He squatted down into his seat, directly in front of James and facing the crew. James watched as he reached down to flick a switch and lifted his headset into position that James saw had been slung around his next. His next words were spoken rather than shouted but the broadcast system (affectionately referred to as the ‘cox box’) transmitted the instructions to the crew via speakers up the length of the boat.

“Right then, you horrible lot. Number off from the bow when you’re ready.”

From the back of the boat James heard Tanner shout “One ready!” followed by Mallory, “Two ready!” followed by Ronson, “Three ready!” followed by Robinson, “Four ready!” followed by Leiter, “Five ready!” followed by Villiers “Six ready!” followed by Trevelyan, “Seven ready!” followed by Bond.

“Eight ready.” He said to Q. 

“Loud enough for the whole crew to hear please.” Q replied curtly. Before James could snap back he addressed the boat again, effectively dismissing him which was no mean feat considering their respective positions were so close that their toes were almost touching. “Alright, let’s see what you can do. _Blades ready! Nice and steady, in time with your Stroke please. On my command – pull!”_

~00Q~

It was bad. It was so bad.

It started easily enough while James was leading the tempo but as soon as Q started to call out, trying to slow them down things started to go wrong. James could feel the boat struggling as half the crew followed Q’s call and the rest followed James’s rhythm. After countless corrective calls irritation started to creep into Q’s commands. Eventually Q raised his hand.

“ _Let ‘er run!”_ He snapped before dragging off his headset and throwing it into the bottom of the boat. They all stopped rowing, leaving them floating in the middle of the marina and James heard a confused murmuring from the rest of team. “Is this a game to you?” Q snapped at James.

“I beg your pardon?”

“This, all of this?” Q gestured about them wildly. “Is this some kind of game to you or are you just an idiot?”

“Am I a _what_?” James asked.

“You seem to be under the impression that the only way to win the race this weekend is to row like a maniac, exhausting your teammates and rendering anything that I try to do absolutely fucking moot. Pig-headed, muscle-bound, brainless apes do not win the Boat Race, Bond! You need cunning. You need to read the river. You need to conserve your team’s strength. You do not thrash your oars like a teenager who’s just found his cock! Now dial it back, wind your neck in and start listening to me or I will have absolutely no hesitation in requesting that you be replaced by the Goldie crew’s Stroke, Kincade.” James’s mouth fell open and for a moment he honestly thought he was going to throw the arrogant berk out of the boat and straight into the drink but then he leaned forward, resting a hand on James’s foot. He continued quietly. “The fact is though, you’re so good at what you do. I’ve seen it for years, watching you in the races. I’ve never seen anyone row like you. You’re amazing and you’re the reason I agreed to help Olivia out this year but please James, _please!_ I need you to listen to what it is that I want you to do. Help me to help you to win this fucking race.” James goggled him. So many compliments on the back of… what did he call him? Q hand smoothed up over his foot to grip his ankle lightly. “Let me do this. Let me guide you. Let me show you what I can do.”

James was speechless. Q was staring at him so intently, his eyes so bright and pleading. He had a high colour across his cheeks. Whether it was from his earlier irritation, the brisk wind coming up off the surface of the water, or something else James couldn’t tell, but it made him look gorgeous. Q’s fingers skittered over his skin and it felt like little jolts of electricity crawling up his shin. Distracted, he nodded. Q grinned, wide and beaming.

“Excellent.”

~00Q~

By the time they’d finished the session things were working a bit better. Q put James through several drills, slowing and speeding up the pace until James actually found it easier to follow him. He still made mistakes but they were evening out. They went back to shore and after they’d stowed the boat Q called the crew to him.

“OK. Listen up. That was a good session but not perfect. I won’t lie, we’re really up against it. We only have one more day of training to make this work but I think we can do it. I’ve been watching the way you work as a team and you’re pretty much flawless. You are brilliant at taking Bond’s visual cues but Bond still isn’t translating my instructions quickly enough.” He looked at James. “I don’t say that to be an arsehole, it’s just a fact, and we really need to work on that. If you’re willing, I propose we spend as much time as possible in the next twenty-four hours practising.”

James could see the rest of the team watching him expectantly so he nodded.

“Fine by me.”

Q smiled at him.

“Excellent. I’ll meet you back at the gym at the club house.”

They all trudged back to where the cars were parked. On the way James overheard Trevelyan not-so-subtly talking to Villiers.

“A fiver says they’ll be fucking by Sunday…”

“Do you really think it will take that long?” Villiers asked.

“Do you really think I can’t hear you?” James said loudly, making them laugh.

“Do you really think my taste in men is that bad?” Q snarked, passing the three of them as he strode up the hill. Villiers and Trevelyan cracked up laughing even harder. Q turned his head and winked at James, a grin plastered across his face.

“You’re all bastards.” James grumbled.

~00Q~

The gym was an impressive, state of the art affair, filled with all manner of equipment. The crowning jewels of which were the ergos, the rowing machines, which occupied one end of it. It was in there that James met up with Q again. The young man had taken off his windcheater and sweatshirt and was dressed in just his t-shirt and shorts. He sat cross-legged on the floor by one of the sweep trainers, the machines designed to emulate rowing with a single oar like James and the crew did, and he’d attached a laptop to it's electronics. He glanced up and smiled when James walked in. He’d put on a pair of glasses and they made him look even younger than his twenty-one years, somehow.

“There you are Bond. I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of linking up a little piece of software that I wrote to the machine. It should accurately measure your response time and your physical reaction to my commands. If you would?”

Q stood up and James saw that he had a heart rate monitor in his hand. James was used to wearing one when working out in the gym so he stripped off his sweatshirt and vest so Q could put it on him. Q seemed to hesitate for the smallest moment before stepping forward to position the black Velcro band around the top of James’s ribs. Q’s hands were warm and James forced himself to look over his head as he worked, trying to ignore the way his nimble fingers moved over his skin as he tightened and re-tightened the band until he was satisfied that it was secure.

“There. Done.” He said finally, stepping back. “Are you going to put your shirt back on now?”

“No.” James responded. “I usually train without it. I overheat when I row in here.”

“Oh. Right. Okay.” Q said, suddenly sitting down again. James watched him as he busied himself at the laptop. “Okay. Your readings all seem to be coming through fine. Let’s get started.”

James tried to suppress a smirk as he sat down on the rowing machine. Q was blushing, James was sure of it. Was the sight of his naked chest too much for the boy? He wondered…

It started well enough. Q asked James to start off with a light stroke, slowly building up to a flat-out race pace. He stared at the laptop intently, calling out the occasional commands which James did his best to interpret. After almost an hour though, it became apparent that James wasn’t doing what Q wanted.

“No no no no _no!”_ Q snapped after trying to get James to ease off the race pace quickly for the third time in five minutes. “You’re too slow! When I tell you to ease off I need you to react instantly!”

“I _am_ doing it instantly!” James protested. “How much quicker do you need me to be for fuck’s sake?”

Q pushed up onto his knees and clicked his fingers.

“This quick! Like this!” He clicked again. “The data is showing me a half-second delay! That’s too long!”

“The data must be wrong.” James snapped back. “Why don’t you stop looking at that fucking screen for a moment? Rowing isn’t about data and algorithms and technical bullshit! It’s about having a feel for the river! The water under you. The blade in your hand!”

“Well, it’s obviously not or it would have been you lifting the trophy for the past three years!” Q said hotly.

James abruptly stood up and tore off the monitor, throwing it at Q.

“Get your fucking computer to do it then.” He growled. 

He was done with the arrogant prick. They could replace James. Bring back Boothroyd. He didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t working with Q any longer. He bent to pick up his discarded clothes and strode off to the showers. He’d no sooner reached his locker than Q barged into the room after him.

“Are you always such an arsehole?” He demanded. “Is that it? The great James Bond doesn’t get his way so that’s it? To hell with the race? To hell with the team? Are you really such a prima donna?”

“Q… I’m warning you…” James said menacingly.

“You’re warning me? Oh, I’m so scared…”

Q’s mocking words had barely left his mouth than James snapped, rushing towards him. He grabbed Q by his shoulders and slammed him up against the lockers behind him. Rather try to break free, Q immediately slapped James across the face. James was stunned and even more stunned when he immediately did it again. Q wriggled as James grabbed his wrists and forced them above his head, pinning them. Q panted, his eyes bright with exertion… and was that mirth?

“What are you going to do with me now, Mr Bond?” He asked quietly.

It was like his words threw a switch in James’s brain and a moment later he was kissing him, roughly and demandingly. Q froze for a moment as if in shock and then he was kissing him back, moaning as their tongues lashed against each other. James shifted his grip, encasing both of Q’s wrists in one hand so he could reach down. As soon as Q felt James’s hand slipping under his waistband he jerked.

“You’re not fucking me in here.” He spat.

“No,” James said quietly as he reached into Q’s underpants, “but I am going to make you come…”

Q whined and his eyes rolled as James’s questing hand found his cock. He was half hard already and it was only a matter of minutes before James had him fully erect. He stroked him roughly and started to kiss his throat. Q shuddered.

“You’re a bastard,” he whispered.

“You like this, don’t you?” James asked, sucking Q’s earlobe into his mouth and nipping at it. Q nodded. “Should I strip you naked so anyone coming in here can see what a slut you are? Are you going to tart your way around the whole team before Saturday?” Q shook his head.

“Nooo…” He breathed. “I want… just this. Just us. Your hand. Oh God, your hand…” 

He shuddered and James grinned at the spurt of precome that suddenly wetted the head of Q’s cock. He gathered it up into the palm of his hand and concentrated his strokes there. The wet sounds it made were delightful and the smell of Q’s musk seemed to fill the room. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“How long have you wanted this Q?” James asked, slowing his hand down.

“Oh God, please don’t stop!”

“How long?”

“Since I first saw you race... You were magnificent.” Q whined. “Please. Oh, please Bond…”

James looked down and was amused to see that Q was on tiptoes now, desperately trying to increase the pressure on his cock. He was so close. Making sure the hold he had on his wrists was secure, James suddenly sped up his stroking. Q’s head fell back onto the locker behind with a bump as he started to come. He whimpered as James’s hand became slick and then jerked as James carried on, stroking his wet palm over the head of his suddenly sensitive cock. Q bucked his hips, up on tiptoes again as he tried to get away. Eventually James took pity of him and mercifully slowed his hand, releasing his wrists. Q staggered and put his arms around James’s neck pulling him into a kiss as James finally stopped stroking him. James closed his eyes as they snogged. The taste of Q’s mouth and the smell of his come and the soft plunge of his tongue into James’s mouth made his head spin. He was sinful. So responsive. Q suddenly slipped his hands around to the front of James’s shoulders and shoved him back off him.

“If we pull this off, if we manage to win the race,” he said, his eyes still wild with passion, “I’ll let you fuck me.” 

He barged past him then and grabbed his jacket out of his locker before whirling around to face him at the door. 

“Tomorrow. After team training. You and me. We need to work on your timing” Q said before striding out of the locker room, leaving James to deal with his own erection.


	3. Chapter 3

FRIDAY

James went into training at 6am feeling like shit. Every time he’d closed his eyes the night before and tried to relax a million thoughts had assailed him.

Denbigh.

The race.

It was his last year.

His last _chance_.

Q.

After the run-in with Q in the locker room, James had ended up in one of the toilet cubicles wanking off furiously, trying to come before anyone else came in. Lying in bed at midnight, his cock uncomfortably hard once again, he'd imagined Q with his hand on him, dropping to his knees to suck him before bending over and offering James his tight, sweet arse. He started to play with himself and managed to come three times before his mind calmed enough to allow him to doze off. When he woke up to the sound of his alarm at 5.30 it felt as if he’d barely slept a wink.

He was usually one of the first in the gym but when he arrived he could hear the whirring thud of someone running on one of the treadmills. He was surprised to see that it was Q. James hadn’t been sure that their new Coxswain would be joining the rowers for the early morning training session. He was stripped to the waist, dressed in just his small black shorts and his trainers. When James climbed onto the machine beside him and started to jog Q glanced at him via the mirror that ran the length of the walls that the running machines faced.

“Morning.” He said, apparently breathing steadily despite the punishing pace he was running at, “You were right.”

“About what?” James asked.

“This gym. It’s too fucking hot.”

James saw that Q’s vest was hanging over one of the hand grips on his machine and he snorted out a laugh.

“It always has been; it’s supposed to help our muscles as we train.”

Q grunted at that as if mocking the idea and they fell into silence as they ran. James quickly got up to his training speed and settled into a rhythm that would see him through the next twenty minutes of exercise. He glanced over. According to the readout on his machine, Q had already been running for almost half an hour and at a pace considerably faster than James’s. He’d barely broken a sweat though. Just as James was wondering exactly how fit Q was, his machine beeped indicating twenty-nine minutes and Q started to slow for the last minute of warm-down. He picked up his water bottle and took a long swig as he slowed to walking pace and James took the opportunity to admire Q’s body. He was lean but not scrawny by any means. He was pale, his skin in stark contrast to the fine dark hair that ran down from his navel to the low-slung waistband of his little shorts. There was hardly an ounce of fat on him, James would have wagered, and he was toned as if he exercised regularly. He must do, he had finished a punishing run and looked as if he’d been out for a stroll. Q lowered the bottle and James’s eyes snapped away, fixing on his own machine’s read-out. He fancied he heard Q snort out a quiet laugh as he stopped and then stepped off the treadmill.

He was immediately replaced by Trevelyan who yawned loudly as he started the running machine up again.

“Fucking early morning fucking training.” He muttered as he started to run.

James hummed in agreement, his eyes fixed on what the mirror-image of Q was doing. He’d walked over the corner of the gym where training mats were laid out. James could see his bag was there and he reached into it to pull out a small pair of fingerless gloves. He put them on and wrapped the long wrist supports around into place firmly. There was a punchbag hanging over the corner of the mats and James expected Q to maybe start boxing but instead he kicked off his trainers and went to the middle to stretch. 

He started by stretching out his hamstrings, leaning over each outstretched leg elegantly, his toes turned up before dropping to the ground, squatting over one leg with the other outstretched and then sliding over to repeat the move. After a couple of repetitions, he stood up and planted his feet a couple of shoulder-widths wide before straightening both legs and bowing, placing his elbows on the ground below him. 

Fucking hell he was flexible. James looked away, suddenly assailed by a mental image of Q naked, wrapping his ankles around James’s neck as James pounded into him. James punched the control panel of the running machine and upped his pace, staring at himself in the mirror, determined not to be distracted. He heard a chuckle beside him.

“Bendy little shit, ain’t he?” Alec said quietly. James glanced at him and instinctively back at Q. He was on the floor now, fully in box-splits, his chest on the mat and his legs spread to their widest extension. James must have stumbled because the next minute he was almost face-first down on the treadmill. Quick as a flash Alec punched the kill-switch on his machine allowing James to regain his footing. A moment later Alec had to stop his own – he was laughing so hard it looked as though he could barely breathe.

“Oh, fuck off.” James muttered which made Alec laugh even harder.

They simultaneously decided they’d had enough of running and went to the ergos to start rowing. It was worse in a way because although they were now further away from Q they were facing him. James started to row and couldn’t help but watch as Q finally stopped stretching and went to the punchbag. He sized it up for a moment, bouncing on the soles of his feet before unleashing a cascade of kicks and punches with such force they reverberated around the gym. Tanner came in and said good morning to Q before taking the rowing machine on the opposite side of James to Alec.

“Morning losers.” He commented as he settled down and started to row. “Quite the spitfire, isn’t he? I wondered if we would get to see him training…”

“You knew?” James asked.

“Oh yes. Q was British Champion when he was a junior. He’s been studying Tae Kwon Do since he was a boy. An injury put him out about four years ago – his ankle, I think – that stopped him from competing at an international level. That was why he got into the rowing scene in the first place.”

“ _Really_ bendy then.” Alec commented.

“I thought I told you to fuck off?” James asked mildly.

“I think our Stroke has got a bit of a thing for our new Coxie.” Alec said slyly.

“I think our Seven should mind his own fucking business.” James responded before turning back to Tanner. “So why is he here? Any idea? I thought he was an Oxford man through and through.”

“He was,” Tanner said, “and I’m not sure. Eve said she was chatting to him the yesterday, just before Mansfield landed him on us.” Eve Moneypenny was Tanner’s girlfriend and Olivia Mansfield’s best friend. Although she wasn’t a rower she acted as the club’s secretary and was usually to be found hanging around the building when she wasn’t studying. “Apparently, he said that when he decided to do a second degree, Gonville offered the best course. She said she got the feeling there was more to it than that though.”

“Oh?”

“He seemed really unwilling to join the club despite all his successes with the Oxford team. He turned Mansfield down flat when she asked him at the start of the year. Only agreed to it this week when he realised what a desperate bind we were in with Denbigh and all that.”

Tanner stopped talking when they saw that Q had finished pummelling the punchbag and removed his gloves. They watched as he put on his loose vest top and wandered over to them, swigging on his water bottle. He grinned at James as he sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of him.

“So, Bond, much as I found it rather entertaining when you lost your temper with me in the locker room yesterday afternoon, I spent last night going over my telemetry and I think I was to blame for you missing my cues.” James felt his cheeks threaten to pink up at the thought of Q pinned up against the lockers, his stiff prick in James’s hand. Shaking his head minutely to chase away the mental image, he cleared his throat.

“Oh really?” He asked as levelly as he could.

“The problem is you exert at a slightly different point in the rowing cycle to what I’ve been used to working with. I got used to Coxing with Tiago Rodrigues as my Stroke. He has a very different style to you. I’m afraid I didn’t pick up on that. I must have been distracted.” His eyes flicked down to James’s naked chest as he said that and then back up to his face. It was a split-second glance but it made James’s cheeks try to warm up again. “You were also at the end of a pretty hard training session out on the water and probably a bit tired. What say we have another bash at it now?”

James nodded and Q immediately hopped up.

“Great! I’ll get my stuff.”

As he walked off Alec spoke;

“You were blushing like a little girl just then.”

“I was not!” James retorted.

“You kind of were mate…” Tanner admitted.

At that moment Mallory, Villiers and Leiter came into the gym just ahead of Robinson and Ronson. The former went to the running machines, the latter to the ergos.

 _Great_. James thought. _The whole fucking team is going to get to watch us arguing now_.

Much as the day before, Q spent a couple of minutes connecting his laptop up to James’s rowing machine before waiting for him to stop rowing so he could attach the heart monitor to his chest.

“Now, no throwing this at me again today.” Q said quietly as he fixed the velcro strap into place.

“Try not to be a prick and I’ll do my best.” James responded in kind. Q glanced up from what he was doing for a moment and smiled at James, a cheeky glint in his eye.

“Don’t tempt me.” He suddenly slapped James’s pectoral and said loudly; “Right then big boy. Let’s see what we can do.”

Rolling his eyes, James sat back down.

Their second attempt went much more smoothly than the first and after an hour they both started to feel that a lot more had been achieved. Q worked on timing his calls until James found it easier to react to him. Before, Q had been calling mid-stroke, expecting James to change his pace and set his oar accordingly with less than a second’s notice. This time he played with changing the commands as James was beginning to pull meaning he had the length of the stroke to prepare for the change. It was a small modification but by the end of it both Q and James were a lot happier.

At 9am Q glanced up at the clock. Most of the rest of the team had gone, leaving just Ronson and Villiers in the gym on the free weights.

“I think we’re about done here.” Q said, closing his laptop and packing it away in his bag. He leant back, leaning on his hands. “How do you feel?”

“Fucking knackered.” James admitted, running his fingers through his hair. “Hardly slept a wink last night.”

“Sleep’s important. Where do you live?”

James was momentarily caught off-guard by the apparent change in subject.

“Out by Red Cross, just past Addenbrookes Hospital. Why?”

“Would you like to come over to mine? I only live two minutes away. We can have breakfast together, you can have a shower. Sleep, if you want.”

“I have a lecture that I really need to attend this morning.” James said, disappointed that he couldn’t say yes. He had to admit that Alec had a point, he did fancy the younger man, but it was turning out to be more than that. He was also beginning to _like_ him. He was a feisty little shit who had got up James’s nose more than once but he was also extremely passionate about what he did. They were very alike in that respect. “Thank you though. Another time maybe?” Q nodded and a part of James was pleased to see that he looked a little bit disappointed too. James stood up and took off the heart-rate monitor and held it out for Q to take. “Thank you.” He repeated.

Q smiled then and it wasn’t the cheeky grin James was used to, it was soft, shy almost.

“You’re welcome.”

He watched as Q put on his shoes before he picked up his bag and left, no doubt to go home to shower. James went through to the locker room alone to get cleaned up.

~00Q~

James did manage to sleep. He got a whole hour sprawled across his desk at the back of the hall while Professor Hibberd droned on about the pros and cons of autocratic management styles. Thanks to modern technology, James managed to record the whole lecture on his laptop. He would sit through it again and make some notes when he had a little more time and energy.

He ate a protein-rich lunch and had three bananas afterwards before making his way back to the boathouse for afternoon training. He felt a lot better by then and eager to try out rowing under Q’s direction again. He wondered at himself actually. Q had barrelled into his life less than twenty-four hours before and immediately pissed him off but within a day the new Cox had effectively taken over, coercing James into doing exactly what he wanted, when he wanted. The strangest thing about the whole situation was that James found that he actually didn’t mind at all. Putting aside the fact that he was a headstrong, arrogant little berk, he was _Q_. The tenacious, notorious Coxswain who’d led the Oxford team to victory all three years that he raced with them and this was after they hadn’t won once for eight years. Personal feelings aside, they were so lucky that he’d been in a position to help them.

And when he now did include his personal feelings… well, they were just snowballing. Gathering strength at a terrifying, exhilarating pace. Q had joked that he would let James fuck him if they won but what if he changed his mind? What if this was all a matter of pride for Q? What if the only reason he was so focussed on James was because it was the best way for him to win the race? What if they didn’t win? Apart from Q, the team that Oxford had put forward this year was made up almost exclusively from last year’s winners. In fact, with the exception of their new Coxswain and the rowers in positions four and five, they’d all stood on the previous year’s podium…

What if Q was simply happy to walk away once the race was over, whatever the result?

His mind still whirling, he reached the boathouse. James immediately saw Q approaching Trevelyan. 

“Villiers just called to say the bus he’s on is stuck in traffic. Will you hang around waiting for him? Can I hitch a ride with you today if you’re getting off sooner?”

“If you like." Alec said. "Everyone else set?” Tanner, Leiter and James all nodded and they headed to Alec’s BMW.

“Thanks.” Q said as he got into the car. "I’m not sure I could have coped with Mallory’s driving two days running….”

It was a quiet ride to their training ground. James sat in the back again with Q sandwiched between him and Tanner. They all sat in silence as Trevelyan drove, no doubt all thinking about the race the next day. James spent most of the journey staring out of the window. Traditionally, they wouldn’t have been training on the water at all that afternoon, James should have been at home resting up ready for the big race, they all should have, but Denbigh’s expulsion had changed everything. Now they needed this session to try to put into action what James and Q had been working on. They’d had so little time. The odds were stacked so high against them. Mansfield had been right. It was all on James’s shoulders for them to succeed.

Q’s thigh was pressed up against James’s, squeezed in as he was between the two burly rowers. James felt him nudge it into his own and he looked down to see Q had his phone in his hand, angled towards James. He had a Google document open and on it he’d written;

_Everything will be okay._

James glanced up at his face and saw he was smiling softly, as if he’d been picking up on James’s unease. James nodded and when Q reached out to take a hold of his hand and briefly squeeze it reassuringly, he let him. It would be okay. It had to be.


	4. Chapter 4

The afternoon session felt as if it went about five hundred times better than the day before.

Q was careful not to push them too hard but he put them through a series of exercises designed to ensure they could collectively react to his commands quickly and smoothly. Now that James was responding almost instantly it helped the rest of them follow suit seamlessly. At the end of the session, once they’d stowed their boat ready for it to be transported to London that evening Q gathered the team around him as he had the day before.

“That was brilliant, really brilliant.” He enthused, the colour high in his cheeks. I always knew you had it in you, all of you. Row like that tomorrow and we’ll be laughing. There’s still a couple of things I’d like to work through with Bond tonight…” Alec wolf-whistled at that but Q chose to ignore him, “… but on the whole I see no reason why we can’t win tomorrow. Well done.” Alec muttered a sly comment about James getting on Q’s hole which made Leiter snort out a hastily covered up guffaw but Q chose to ignore that too. “See you all at 9am.”

They all picked up their gear and made their way back to the car. Once everyone was belted in and on their way, Felix asked;

“Do you really think we’ve got a chance of winning this?”

“Yes.” Q replied. “To be honest, I thought you guys were going to get it last year. My crew were flagging badly over the last mile and how in the hell they managed to dig deep enough to pull it back at the end, I’ll never know.”

“We went into the shallows.” James said quietly. “Boothroyd…” he hesitated for a moment before correcting himself, “… I didn’t listen to Boothroyd and he couldn’t navigate around the slow-moving section of the river. It was my fault.” As he said the words James realised for the first time how true they were. He’d blamed Boothroyd every time but every single time it had been his fault that they’d lost.

“That won’t happen this year. Not if I have anything to do with it.” Q told him.

James shrugged and looked out of the window again, feeling ashamed. Three years running they’d lost. Had it been his fault every time? It probably was. He didn’t join in any more of the conversations on the way back, thinking over what he’d done and what he was expected to do the next day. Could they really do it? Could they win? For the first time, despite everything he really wasn’t sure.

They arrived back at the clubhouse and Alec let James and Q get out of the car before driving off, intending to drop off Felix and Bill on his way home. Q waited until they were out of sight before slipping his hand into James’s. James went to walk towards the clubhouse but Q surprised him by tugging him the other way.

“Come on you.”

“I thought you wanted us to train some more?”

“No, what I said was; there are a couple of things that we needed to work through.”

He started to lead him along the water’s edge and within a minute took a small lane up the side of the building that housed the Fitzwilliam College Boat Club. On the other side was the end of a road that was lined either side with terraces of small houses. Q led James to the white front door of the one nearest to them.

“You really weren’t kidding when you said you lived two minutes away, were you?” James asked as Q let go of his hand to fumble out his keys from the bottom of his bag. Q laughed and pushed the door open before leading James inside. 

The narrow hall opened out into a small neat lounge. Q dropped his bag and James had just enough time to take in the large DVD collection and the piles of computer equipment on the little desk in the corner before Q was pressed up against him, kissing him. James hummed in surprise, instinctively wrapping his arms around him and kissing him back. After a moment Q pulled back.

“Come with me.”

He took James’s hand again and led him back out of the room and up the stairs to the bathroom. A shower stood over the bath. Q pulled out a towel from the rack.

“Have a shower and then come and meet me in the bedroom, first on your right. Use any of my stuff that you like.”

“I didn’t think I was allowed fuck you unless we won the race?” James asked uncertainly.

Q kissed his cheek.

“Just do as you’re told.”

Q left the room and James mentally shrugged before stripping off. He never was one to look a gift horse in the mouth…

Within ten minute he was done. As he wandered through to the bedroom, the towel wrapped around himself he couldn’t help but feel nervous. He’d come out as bisexual the year before but the thing was, he’d never actually fucked another man. He hoped he would live up to Q’s expectations.

Q was waiting for him on the bed, dressed in just his little black shorts. There was a pile of bedding on the floor in the corner and James wondered if Q had just changed the sheets for him. Q got up onto his knees and shuffled back. James watched as he laid out a towel.

“Lie down here. On your front please.” James did as he was told and jumped a little when he felt Q swing his leg over to sit on his bum, his hands smoothing up his sides. “You are so tense.” He said. “I’m going to fix that.”

James jumped again as he felt warm liquid drizzle down his spine. It must have been oil because Q immediately started to spread it over his back.

“God, that feels good.” James murmured. It really did, he was warm from the shower and Q had strong fingers which were expertly seeking out the muscles that had been tightened by the day’s exercise.

“Good,” Q said quietly, “I could see how uptight you’ve been today. You seem stressed and that’s no good. You wouldn’t have slept well tonight if we hadn’t done something about it.”

“I never sleep well before a race.” James said, fighting the urge to groan as Q worried a particularly tight knot in the back of his right shoulder.

“You will tonight. I’ll make sure of it.” Q moved his hands down to the towel around James’ waist and tugged on it, easing off him and waiting for James to lift his hips. “Come on, don’t a prude. I’m not going to steal your innocence… unless you really want me to.” James did as he was told and then groaned as Q shuffled back to sit on his thighs, his hands sweeping down to cup his buttocks. “Jesus James; your arse is phenomenal!”

James sniggered at that, he couldn’t help it and his laughter turned into a shocked gasp as Q ran his fingers over his buttocks and smoothed his thumbs down the crack of his arse.

“Is this okay? Do you mind me touching you like this?”

His mouth suddenly dry, James shook his head. The truth was, no one had ever touched him there before beyond a quick fumble he’d had with some random guy he’d met in a club and that had been nothing like this. Q drizzled more oil into the cleft and then started kneading his buttocks, thoroughly loosening the muscles before pushing up to his lower back and smoothing back down, every time his thumbs diving deeper before they brushed over his arsehole with every stroke. James groaned again when one of Q’s thumbs was replaced by a fingertip which rested up against his oiled pucker. He felt Q lean over him.

“Let me?” He asked softly into James’s ear. James gripped the pillow under his face and nodded, whining as the finger pushed inside him. He shivered and felt his cock harden as Q sat back on his thighs. The finger toyed with the muscular entrance and was soon joined by Q’s thumb pressing up against the outer edge until he was massaging slowly around it. It felt divine and thrilling to have another man touch him that way. “You look beautiful.” Q said quietly. “Every time I do this,” He twisted his finger slightly, “you push your hips up towards me. I don’t even think you realise you’re doing it. Let’s try something…” There was another drizzle of oil and Q pressed in another fingertip. It went in as smoothly as the first. 

“Fucking hell.” Q breathed. James felt his breath and then his lips ghost over James’s lower back. “I want to fuck you. I want to stuff you full of my cock and make you come.” James whined and nodded. He wanted that too. He’d never considered being a bottom before but judging by the exquisite feelings Q was wringing out of him, he wanted to try. He tried to push his hips back and up but Q placed a gentle hand on the small of his back. “Easy. Not tonight. Not before the race.”

James whined with frustration but the hand on his back soothed him as the fingers in his arse began to stroke.

“Shhh. It’s okay baby. I’m going to take good care of you. I have something you might like.” Q leaned over and James heard the bedside drawer opening. A moment later something cool and hard replaced Q’s fingers. It was considerably longer but Q took his time, easing it inside far enough for the flared ridge at it’s base to lodge it inside James’s body. Q leaned over James again to kiss his ear. “Such a good boy. You managed to take it all. Would you like to see why it’s my favourite toy?” Q reached down and a moment later it started to vibrate, a low tremble that seemed to press directly onto James’s prostate.

“Oh God! Please…”

“What do you need? Tell me.” James shuddered and humped the soft towel under his cock. He didn’t know. He had no clue what he needed. He wanted to come and he wanted to fuck Q and he wanted Q to fuck him and he wanted the delicious sensation in his arse to keep going and he wanted to fist his cock until he exploded but he also wanted Q to keep playing with him and use him any way he saw fit. Q must have sensed James’s inner conflict because he chuckled. “Let’s just finished your massage first, shall we? Roll over for me.”

Even after feeling a little self-conscious when Q tried to remove his towel James had absolutely no hesitation in turning over for him after Q had played with him the way he had. Q grinned as he shifted until he was sitting cross-legged between James’s legs, his knees supporting James’s spread thighs. He grabbed the oil and poured some over James’s chest and James realised with a mixture of frustration and desperation that he was actually going to finish massaging him. Q leaned over James, ignoring his rampant, red-headed erection to slowly smooth over his pectorals. James could only watch as Q’s fingers ran over every inch of his chest before moving down to his obliques.

“Mmmm. You look lovely. Just the right side of desperate.” Q said, stroking his hands either side of James’s pubes before going back to his chest, pushing the heels of his hands up over his nipples. He trailed his fingers back down towards James’s navel, tickling him teasingly. “Let’s see what happens when I do this…”. He reached between James’s thighs and touched the butt plug again. It immediately started to vibrate harder. James jerked and gripped the towel underneath him. 

“Please. Please Q.”

Q leant over, resting his forearms on James’s legs, pressing them open as he primly licked the head of James’s cock. James bucked, almost coming as the first gentle touch.

“Oh,” Q smiled, “I don’t think you’re going to last much longer at all…”

He ducked down again and suddenly took James’s entire length into his mouth. James yelled, an ungodly sound that was almost a scream as he spasmed.

“Oh God. Oh Q, you’re going to make me come! I can’t… please…”

Instead of taking pity on James the vibration in his arse intensified again just as Q swallowed and gagged around his cock. With a roar James came, shuddering and cursing as everything tightened, magnifying the incessant stimulation in his arse as Q sucked him, taking every drop that he had to give as wave after wave of pleasure swamped him. It finally relented and the vibration finally, mercifully stopped. He slumped as his cock fell from Q’s lips.

“I… that was…”

James didn’t usually fall asleep straight after sex but as the toy was removed from his arse James realised that he was about to do just that. He felt like he’d run a marathon. Q leaned over him again and James clumsily reached up to stroke his hair.

“That was… you were…”

Q grinned.

“Go to sleep. You can tell me how amazing I was when you wake up.”

James nodded and despite trying to fight it, he found himself falling asleep almost immediately.

~00Q~

James slept for a couple of hours and when he awoke he was alone. Q had cleaned him up and covered him in a blanket before leaving him and James felt a little flutter of embarrassment as he sat up. His clothes had been folded and placed on the wooden chair in the corner of the room and James felt a twinge inside himself as he moved off the bed to get dressed. Jesus. Q had been playing with his arse and James felt his cheeks burn as he remembered the effect that it had on him. James didn’t have a lot of experience with actually being with other men and it had actually been the first time he’d been to bed with a boy. As he dressed he wondered what Q would say if he knew. James could hear the sound of quiet music as he went down the stairs and he followed it to the kitchen where he found Q chopping a pile of fresh vegetables. He was dressed in loose-fitting yoga pants and a short t-shirt and was shifting his hips in time with the sound of Childish Gambino coming from the radio.

“Hello.” James said.

Q turned for a moment and grinned.

“Hello Rip Van Winkle. Welcome to the 2039.”

“Arse.” James commented standing behind Q to wrap his arms around his waist and his chin on his shoulder. “What are you cooking?”

“Hoisin Chicken stir fry. I thought you might like something to eat before you go home.”

“I’m not staying with you tonight?” James took half a step back and letting go of Q in his confusion. Had he mis-read the situation? “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? I know I fell asleep before I got you off but…”

Q chuckled and put down the knife so he could turn around. He took a step after James and kissed the side of his mouth sweetly.

“You were perfect but if you stay tonight I can 100% guarantee that I will spend the whole night doing every single filthy thing I can think of to you and neither of us will get a wink of sleep and I’d quite like for us to win that race tomorrow.”

James laughed, feeling relieved.

“You make a very good point.” He smiled.

“And besides,” Q continued with an evil smirk, “I think I made it abundantly clear that you don’t get to fuck me unless we win.”

“That is true,” James said, drawing Q into his arms so he could kiss his neck, “but I think we both now know that I’m more than happy for you to fuck me instead…”

Q squirmed delightfully for a moment before pushing him away.

“Oh no you don’t! Don’t start using logic on me, you animal! Go and sit down and let me cook this!”

James sat down as he was told and watch Q as he turned on the stove. Within a few minutes he presented him with a huge bowl of mixed chicken, vegetables and noodles which James tucked into immediately. It was bloody delicious and James told him so.

“Thanks. My mum spent a lot of time traveling before she had me and she loved to learn local recipes. This is made with her favourite version of hoisin. She taught me to cook when I was growing up and she wrote down a lot of her recipes for me before she died.”

“I’m sorry. How old were you when she died?”

“Fourteen. She had cancer. It was very sad.”

“What about your dad?”

“He was a twat. He died last year. I inherited this house off him.” Q paused for a moment, spearing a piece of chicken and chewing on it slowly, as if debating what to say next. Finally, he swallowed and spoke again. “My parents were both academics. My mother was a professor of Chemistry at Oxford, dad lectured in humanities here at Cambridge. They divorced when I was six; he was cheating on her. I lived with her until she died and then dad took me in. He didn’t want me though and I didn’t want to be here. He was too busy drinking and wasting his life to give a shit about his son so when the time came to choose a university…”

“You went to your mother’s old school…”

“Give the man a gold star.” Q replied. “Dad was furious. Called me an ungrateful little punk. I called him a useless excuse for a human being and we left it at that. I moved out and I only spoke to him one more time, which as it turns out was when he was on his death bed.”

“Really?” James asked, shocked.

“He was admitted to hospital. All the time I lived with him, the whole four years, I tried to get him to give up the booze. His work was suffering, his bosses were getting pissed off with him not turning up to work, he was getting more and more sick and he kept insisting he could handle it and I suppose he did, right up to the point that it killed him.”

“How did it happen?”

“Peritonitis. He’d had it before but this time it was quickly followed by complete organ failure. I got the call from his doctors and decided to come and see him. He died about six hours after I visited.”

“And he left you this house?”

“No. Silly bastard couldn’t even be bothered to write a will properly. I inherited it by default as his only living relative.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Don’t worry about me though.” Q said. “I was never my father’s son. I guess I miss him but my world didn’t end when he died. I finished at Oxford and then came here to do the engineering degree I’d had my eyes on for the last couple of years. It’s a bit weird being back here in this house but the lack of rent is definitely a bonus.” He started to eat again and James couldn’t help but smile. 

“Mansfield said you got a first at Oxford. I can’t imagine they would have been to happy to lose you, especially as you were so successful on the water for them. Didn’t they try to convince you to stay?”

“They did, but I had my reasons for leaving and they respected my decision. I’m glad they didn’t convince me.” Q said, “if they had, we might never have got to race together.”

He reached out across the table to take James’s hand and they both smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

SATURDAY

The coach left the clubhouse at nine o’clock the next morning but didn’t arrive at Putney until eleven-thirty after getting caught up in heavy London traffic. The university sent additional coaches for the other teams and support crew so the one with the men’s team on it was half-empty. It was an unspoken agreement that the rowers would sit separately, each taking a double seat to themselves. James had been one of the last to arrive and Q was already settled when he walked past him on his way to the back of the coach. Q had his lap-belt around himself loosely so he could tuck his bare feet up under himself. He was wearing the most enormous set of headphones and appeared to be listening to Slipknot at an eye-wateringly loud volume as he busily typed on his laptop. Despite this, he still noticed James pass, looking up to smile at him as he walked by. James smiled back and then told Alec to piss off as he wolf-whistled them.

The journey was uneventful and quiet, all of them taking the time to mentally prepare for the race ahead. Even Q stowed his laptop and seemed to meditate for the last hour.

When they arrived at Putney there was the usual clamour. The press took candid photos of them as they got off the coach and then James, Felix and Gareth paused to give a couple of ad hoc interviews before they all went to the Hurlingham Yacht Club to get changed into their rowing gear. They had a choice of clothing in the team’s mint green and black uniform - they could wear leggings and t-shirts under their team vests while rowing if they wished - but for the official team photos they all just donned their black Lycra shorts, their mint-green jackets and matching green wellington boots, even Q. Looking at their Coxswain milling about with the rest of the team in his uniform, it struck James for the first time how small he looked. He was about five foot nine, James would have guessed, but he looked tiny next to the rowers who all averaged around six foot five. Even Tanner, the shortest of them, made Q look like a teenager beside his bulky, muscular frame. Q turned and caught James looking and he couldn’t help but smile. Q grinned back, winking at him.

The head photographer called out that she was ready to take the photos. The Cambridge crews quickly lined up on the bank of the river in race order, the ladies team standing in front of the men, and they waited for the Oxford crews to join them. James glanced at his watch. They had about twenty minutes before the ladies raced. They would be racing upstream and the races were timed to start on the incoming flood tide so that the crews would be rowing with the fastest possible current. The men were due to race forty minutes after that.

The Oxford crews arrived and took their places opposite them. James glanced over, recognising most them from the previous races; there was Francisco Scaramanga who sat in the Bow position opposite Mallory. Next to him was Auric Goldfinger, a ginger haired man with a round face and an unpleasant down-turned mouth. Next came the middle four, Dominic Greene, Emilio Largo and two new rowers* that James didn’t know. Next came the Stern Pair, Lee Chiffre and Tiago Rodrigues. Finally, their new Cox, Ernst Blofeld. James turned to the camera when the photographer began to call out commands. After a few minutes of posing they were dismissed and Q turned to him.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” He asked quietly. 

James smiled.

“I did. Someone wore me out.” He replied in a low voice.

“Hmmm. Apparently, it doesn’t take much…” Q mused.

“Cheeky cock.” James laughed.

“New boyfriend, Thomas?” A voice cut across them. Q obviously recognised it as he instantly scowled, dropping his head.

“Fuck off Tiago.” He said in a low, clear voice.

Oxford's Stroke had strolled over, his handsome face twisted into a sneer. 

“That was fast work. I heard that Denbigh only got thrown out a couple of days ago. How are you fitting in with the losers? How’s the training gone? Are you motivating them properly? Did you offer to suck off your handsome new Stroke if he won?" He looked James up and down. "Or was it a fuck? Has your price gone up pretty boy?”

“I said fuck off.” Q hissed as he whirled around. “When are you going to take the hint and leave me alone?”

"Still a feisty little thing, aren't you?"

Tiago laughed and reached out to touch Q’s hair…

Q recoiled and James instantly reacted, stepping forward and pushing Tiago back firmly.

“He told you to leave him alone!”

He heard a shout and then James was being rugby-tackled off his feet by Scaramanga. He was completely blind-sided and knocked flying, grunting as he tumbled. He slammed into Q, who was still just behind him and all three of them fell to the ground in a jumble of limbs. There was an agonised scream and it took James a moment to realise it had come from Q. He struggled to get himself free, shoving Scaramanga off himself in an effort to get to Q. The was another flurry of movement as Mallory and Leiter dragged the man off him as Tanner squared up to Rodrigues, un-concerned by the crowd of angry Oxford rowers surrounding him.

James scrambled to his feet and was at Q’s side in moments. He was a sickly grey colour.

“Help me… please. Get my boot off me…” He pleaded.

James looked down and saw the way that he was holding his right knee, elevating his leg. He remembered something Tanner had said about Q’s martial arts career, cut short by an ankle injury. He quickly placed his hand on Q’s shin, and slipped the other around the heel of his boot.

“On three. One… two… three!” James pulled the boot off as smoothly as he could. Despite his efforts Q shouted out in pain.

“Oh Jesus! Oh fuck!” Q sobbed. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I think it’s gone back into place…” 

James felt a bit sick as he realised that the act of pulling off the boot must have reset Q’s dislocated ankle. He looked up to see a couple dressed in St John’s Ambulance uniforms were making their way over to them and he decided that he didn’t want the crowds and cameras surrounding them to see anything else. He scooped Q up and stood up, striding his way back to the clubhouse. Q shivered, looping his hand up around James’s shoulder, hanging on as he tucked his face into the side of his neck. James could hear there were still arguments going on and raised voices on the riverbank behind them as race officials tried to placate the two teams but James didn’t give a shit about them, intent as he was in getting Q comfortable.

Mansfield was waiting for them at the clubhouse and instantly led them to a small treatment room which contained a padded table for physiotherapy and massages.

“You are an absolute cretin Bond!” she shouted as James carefully laid Q down on the table, “What the ever-loving fuck did you think you were doing?”

“It was my fault,” Q said tiredly, “I should have warned James about Tiago…”

“With all due respect, you’re not responsible for James starting a fight like that!” She turned on James in a fury, “I just hope to God the race officials see it as you defending Q or we are FUCKED! I’ve got to try to sort this shit out with them…”

“Is she always so eloquent?” Q asked as she stomped off.

“Shhhh,” James warned him, “she’ll have your balls for breakfast if she hears you.”

The two first aiders came into the room and James stepped back to allow them to look at him. Q laid himself flat as they very gently cut off his sock and started to try to move the joint. James balled his hands into fists as he listened to Q whimpering every time it hurt him. Eventually they finished. The taller of the two men spoke.

“I’m very sorry, but I think this might be broken. You’ll need to go to hospital for an X-ray.” 

Q was now lying with his arm over his eyes, his response was quiet and measured.

“No.”

“But…”

“Strap it up. Give me some drugs if you can. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Q,” James said gently, “you don’t have to.” Boothroyd was there as part of the second, back-up team, he could stand in as Coxswain and if he didn’t want to race with James as Stroke well… he would offer his seat to Kincade. 

“I’m not going to let that man win James.” Q replied, finally looking up at him. “He made my last year at Oxford a misery. He wouldn’t leave me alone, turning up at my flat at all hours, always trying to get me alone when we were training. He was convinced that we were meant to be together. He was the main reason I left Oxford.”

“So you never…?” James remembered Tiago’s quip about Q offering sex and his stomach tightened. Was that all he was to Q? A means to an end? A way of winning the race? 

Q reached out to him and James took his hand.

“I swear to you, I never did.”

The door opened and James looked away from Q to see Mansfield coming in with the race director Rene Mathis. Q struggled to sit up so James helped him, easing him up and then sitting behind him so he could lean back onto him.

“Mr Carter. Mr Bond. We need to talk.”

James nodded, his mouth going dry as he realised this was it. He was about to be banned from the race.

“Can you gentlemen explain what on earth happened out there?”

James opened his mouth to start speaking but Q cut in.

“I’m responsible, one hundred percent.” He said. “James and I… well we’ve become rather fond of each other and I’m afraid I told him all about the way Rodrigues gave me a hard time when I was at Oxford.”

“Oh?” Mathis looked interested whereas Mansfield stood behind him looked mildly amused. Q had confessed in front of her not five minutes before that he should have told James about Tiago.

“I reported Tiago to the authorities there for harassment several times during my final year. When he came over to mock us James behaved impeccably but then Tiago reached out to grab my hair and I’m afraid he saw red and tried to protect me by pushing him away.”

“Why did he try to grab your hair?”

“He was threatening me. I won’t repeat what he said – it was awful.” Q sounded so timid, James had to fight not to laugh. Tiago had said nothing of the sort but he guessed that anyone who'd been watching them at that moment would have clearly seen him reaching out. “I don’t want to cause any problems for him though, or Scaramanga - although what he did was a dirty move - I want them to know that we are the better men here. I’d rather we settled this by beating them on the water if I may Sir.”

“And are you fit enough to do that?”

“The medics suspect I have a broken ankle but I don’t need to stand to be able to kick their arse, metaphorically speaking, Sir.”

Mathis nodded.

“Very well. This is all most unusual but the time is almost upon us. I suggest you all shake hands like gentlemen and settle your scores out on the water, as you say.”

He left the room and Mansfield paused for a moment, looking astonished.

“You’re a silver-tongued bastard Q. Has anyone ever told you that? I was sure he was going to ban you both!”

“Haven’t you got a race to win?” He replied sweetly. She looked at her watch and swore before running out of the room. Q turned back to the waiting medics. “Right. Are you boys going to strap my ankle up for me now or what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * if you're wondering, the other two Oxford rowers are Elliot Carver and Aristotle Kristatos.


	6. Chapter 6

Villiers came to the room just as the first-aiders were finishing up. He was carrying a bottle of water and a blister packet of pills.

“Hi Bond. Q. How’s the ankle?”

“Absolutely fucking spiffing.” Q groused as he swung his legs down off the bed gingerly. He winced. “Jesus, that smarts.”

“Mansfield told us that the medics thought you’d bust it. Here. Have a couple of these. Tore my rotator cuff last season. They’re legal to take and still race.” He popped out two of the pills and offered them to Q. “Co-codamol. Might help to take the edge off.”

Q took them and tossed them back, chasing them with the water.

“Thanks. Any chance you two could help me through to the changing room?”

“I’ll do it.” James said as he leaned over to pick him up again. He slipped one hand around Q's back and the other under his knees.

“Oh god, I feel like a blushing bride again.” Q quipped.

James huffed out a laugh.

“You’re certainly pretty enough.” He said. Villiers groaned behind them.

“You two are terrible. So, have you shagged yet? If so, Alec owes me a fiver.”

“I’m afraid not…” Q laughed.

“Dammit.” Villiers replied glumly.

The rest of the team had finished getting ready for the race and were in the changing room waiting for them. Tanner stood up as they came in.

“Good news lads. Eve rang from the finish line - the ladies just won.”

“Good,” Q said as James set him down next to his kit bag. “Then it’s even more important that we make it a double.”

“How are you feeling?” Mallory asked.

“Like someone just broke my fucking ankle.” Q retorted. “Believe me when I say, it doesn’t matter though. I can still do my job well enough and I will be buggered if I let Tiago win today.”

“Hear hear!” Ronson muttered.

James was going to row in just his vest and shorts but Q needed to be warmer as he would be much more stationary than the rowers. He quickly changed his top before helping Q to slip off his jacket so he could put a sweatshirt on over his polo shirt. He put his light jacket back on and then put on a baseball cap which was also in the team’s colours. James knelt down to help him on with one of his trainers and carefully eased a one of James’s spare socks over his toes and the bottom half of the bandaging on his injured foot. Q’s ankle was starting to swell alarmingly above the wraps and it must have hurt him dreadfully but he didn’t complain. 

Fifteen minutes before race time there was a knock at the door and a couple of women from the BBC’s outside broadcast team came in. They liked to see the effects that the race had on the crew, Coxswain included, and they quickly fitted everyone with little monitors that broadcast their stats to their equipment back at the presenter’s makeshift studio. It would enable them to measure their breathing and heart rates in real time. As the young woman assigned to Q applied his monitors with little sticky pads James heard her talking to him.

“My boss says you were attacked on the shoreline.”

Q shrugged.

“It was an accident. My foot caught in the shingle. Quite unfortunately really.”

“So, no hard feelings?”

“Why would there be hard feelings? They were my team for three years. They’re my friends.” 

He left it at that and James felt a swell of affection for him. He knew what the BBC was doing, sending in a couple of pretty girls to fit their monitors, no doubt hoping for the team to let slip a juicy piece of information that the presenters could chat about while they waited for the race to begin. James almost laughed. They really should have sent in a couple of pretty boys if they’d wanted anything from Q.

When they were all ready and the women had left, Q stood up, balancing on his left foot.

“Right.” He began quietly. “This is it. I’m not going to promise you that you’re going to win but I am going to say that you have a bloody good chance of it. You’re a fantastic team and I’ll do my best to steer you to victory. I didn’t think I’d ever want to race again after leaving Oxford but I’m glad Olivia managed to convince me to stand in. You’re a great bunch of guys and I want to thank you for trying so hard to work with me. Especially you James. I know I didn’t make the greatest of first impressions.”

They all chuckled at that except for James.

“We.” He said firmly.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said _we_ ,” He repeated, “ _we_ are a fantastic team.”

Q blushed, looking as pleased as punch. He was about to say something else when he was interrupted by a steward knocking and entering.

“The tide waits for no man, gentlemen. It’s time to race.”

~00Q~

The time went in a blur, as it always did.

After the seemingly endless hours of waiting and anticipation and excitement and not a little bit of fear, everything seemed to rush. The teams shaking hands in front of the clubhouse, each team member staring their counterparts down, unwilling to show any sign of backing down. The walk down to the boat, Q supported by James and Alec, an arm slung over each of their shoulders. The coin-toss that determined they would be starting on the right side of the river that year, getting everyone into position in the boat and rowing out to the starting position.

Time slowed a little as they waited as Q held them for the longest time, his hand in the air indicating that he wasn’t happy, as marshals rowed out in their little dinghy to remove whatever it was that he could see floating in the water ahead of them. It was only a carrier bag but Q was determined, his face stony as he refused to let the race start until he knew the line was clear for his rowers.

And then they were off, poised and ready one moment, exploding into action the next at the sound of the starter’s pistol…

They rowed for their lives.

They rowed for Cambridge.

James rowed for Q.

He couldn’t take his eyes off him. He was merciless, barking out commands like a metronome one moment, encouraging them the next. They came perilously closed to clashing oars with the Oxford team on one of the bends but Q wasn’t fazed; he continued to call the stroke, expertly steering them into the deeper, faster water that both of the teams had been vying for.

And then the moment that James had waited for, for three long years…

They pulled ahead.

Half a mile from the end of the course they had smoothly gained two boat lengths and James realised with a jolt of excitement that this was it, they were going to win. He pulled harder, eager to get over the line but Q called over the cox box;

“HOLD IT STEADY BOYS. STAY ON STROKE! WITH ME! HERE WE GO! POWER FOR TEN! NICE AND SMOOTH! ONE! TWO! THREE!...”

James gritted his teeth, fighting his instinct to just go hell for leather and following Q’s rhythm as tightly as he could as they got closer and closer to the finish line…

An airhorn blasted.

“WEIGHENOUGH!” Q shouted, punching the air. “Lift your blades lads. You did it! You fucking did it!”

James slumped back in his seat, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He glanced over to see the Oxford crew coming over the line a distant second. Not only had they beaten them, they’d done it by several boat lengths. Alec’s arms wrapped around him from the seat behind and kissed his ear with a resounding 'smack!'.

“Bloody well done, James!”

“Bloody well done all of us.” James gasped, reaching behind himself to grab the back of Alec’s head and shake him. He started to chuckle but it died when he looked forward again at Q.

Q had taken off his headset and was slumped forward in his seat, his forehead resting on his knees. Even from where James was sitting, he could see that he was trembling. James pulled forward out of Alec’s bear hug and quickly unlaced his feet from his trainers so he could lean forward, squatting down in the base of the boat. He stroked Q’s hair gently.

“Q?”

Alec must have realised that there was a problem as he called out;

“Come on lads, bit more rowing, we need to get our Coxie to shore!”

The boat started to move just as Q began to stir.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “it’s just hit me… my ankle… I think the adrenaline’s wearing off… those drugs didn't really work…”

James looked over the where they were coming ashore and saw a marshal on the bank.

“MEDIC!” James shouted, “WE NEED A MEDIC!”

He saw the woman reach for her radio so he turned his attention back to Q.

“It’s OK. Two minutes.”

Q nodded.

“Sorry. I wanted…”

“Stop apologising.” James said softly. “You… seriously, you have no idea how brave you’ve been, do you?”

Q seemed to shrug at that.

As soon as they reached the shallows, James leapt into the water and then lifted Q out of the boat. He groaned as he was moved and it was James’s turn to apologise as he hitched Q up and waded through the water towards the top of the slipway where James could see an ambulance reversing into position. By the time he’d reached the top the crowds around them were applauding, no doubt saluting Q as they passed. The doors to the ambulance were open and the steps were down so James could take Q inside and lay him straight down on the gurney.

“I’m coming with him.” James told the paramedics as they moved in to examine Q.

Q roused at that.

“No. He’s not.” He ground out.

“Q, I won’t let you go on your own…” James started to say.

“I’m a big boy Bond, in case you hadn’t noticed, and besides; you have a podium to stand on. A trophy to lift.”

“But…”

“’ _Your last chance’,_ that was what you said, wasn’t it?" Q snapped. "I want you to go out there and lift that trophy and I want you to wave it in Tiago’s fucking face and if you get the opportunity, I’d rather like it if you could try shoving it up his arrogant, narcissistic arse for me.” He added with a small smile.

James laughed at that, he couldn’t help it. Q was right, he knew he was, but he couldn’t help feeling that he was abandoning Q so he told him exactly that. Q just shook his head.

“You’re not abandoning me.” He replied and then turned to the paramedic. “Where will you take me?”

“West Middlesex Hospital, Sir.”

“Come and find me later, if you like.” Q said. James leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“I do like.” James said.

~00Q~

The nurse led James into a small side room off the end of the main Accident and Emergency department’s main corridor. Q was on one of the four otherwise empty beds, apparently sleeping.

“Mr Bliss, one of our resident orthopaedic surgeons came down to assess Mr Carter when it became apparent that his ankle was dislocated. The department’s doctor had identified a hairline fracture running up from the end of his fibula and was concerned that it wouldn’t be stable enough to reset without surgery. Mr Bliss was able to ease it back into position though.

“It was dislocated all that time.” James said softly. Q must have been in so much pain but he’d pressed ahead and insisted on racing with them anyway.

“We gave Mr Carter a light sedative. Not enough to knock him out but enough to make him unaware and to ensure that he didn’t remember anything about the resetting process…”

“Like a roofie.” James suggested.

“We wouldn’t be so crass as to described them like that, but yes.” She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Just like a roofie. The effects don’t last long and as soon as he’s alert we’ll be letting him go. Will you be taking care of him tonight?”

James nodded, watching intently as Q whined and shifted in his sleep.

“I’ll give you a few minutes. I’ll go and make Mr Carter a cup of tea and find him a biscuit to have when he wakes up.”

James thanked her and then went to sit on the side of the bed. Q was curled over, lying on his side and James leaned over him.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” He gently stroked Q’s tousled hair back off his face. He would have liked to have kissed him but he wasn’t sure if he’d be taking advantage of the situation. Instead he drew back to see Q blearily open his eyes.

“James?”

“Hi.” James smiled and then. “Ready to go home?”

“Yes, please. Are we going now?” He stirred as if ready to leave that instant.

“In a minute. Rest a little. There’s no rush.” James soothed, running his hand over Q’s hair and down his back to rub comfortingly between his shoulders. Q huffed out a sigh as he nodded and closed his eyes again, back dozing within seconds. They were still in that position when the nurse came back in. She had a cup of tea in one hand and two custard cream biscuits in a plastic wrapper in the other.

“How are we doing in here?” 

“He’s still dozy.” James said quietly. “Hey there. You need to wake up now.” He shook Q’s shoulder gently. This time Q’s eyes opened more fully. “Can you sit up for me? There’s tea.”

“Tea?” 

Q still seemed a little confused but he sat up willingly enough with James guiding him. The nurse pushed the bed table over so Q could reach his drink.

“What time is it?” He asked as he picked it up with both hands and took a sip.

“Almost seven o’clock.”

He seemed surprised at that.

“It’s late. You shouldn’t have hung around so long.” He said quietly.

“Yes, I should. We won because of you.” Q smiled at that. “I wasn’t about to leave you behind, and besides, I find I’m starting to grow quite fond of you…”

“Even if I am a prick?” James’s eyes widened and Q grinned. “Tanner told me what you’d said in the car after we first met…”

“I can see Billy and I need to talk.” James deadpanned.

Q laughed at that and shrugged.

“I knew by your reputation that you’d be a handful. I just wanted to lay down the law.” He raised his eyebrows, pleading. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Only if I can take you out to dinner.”

“As I remember, I offered you something a little more exciting than dinner if we won…”

James slipped his hand in under Q’s tea cup to steady it before leaning in and kissing him slowly.

“How could I forget that?” He murmured.

“Ahem.”

They both turned to see the nurse still standing over them, a look of wry amusement on her face. She had a pair of crutches and an envelope in her hand.

“You seem to be feeling a lot better.” She said, smiling at them both. “If you feel steady enough, Mr Carter, we’re happy to let you go.” She handed Q the envelope. “First thing on Monday morning I recommend that you contact your GP and ask him to refer to you to your local hospital’s fracture clinic. They’ll be able to put a more permanent cast on your foot and you can be seen by an orthopaedic consultant regarding any further treatment that you may require. Now, if we can have you standing up, let me quickly get these crutches adjusted for you…”

Five minutes later James and Q were slowly making their way out of the building. James hovered, one hand behind Q’s back, ready to steady him if he wobbled, but he seemed to be doing well on his new crutches. As they walked Q spoke;

“I really appreciate this but you really didn’t have to stay James. You should have gone with the rest of the team, celebrated with them. I would have got myself home somehow…”

“Who say’s the team’s gone off celebrating?” James asked as they walked out of the front doors. Q gasped as he realised that the team’s coach was parked in the pick-up point, just outside the main entrance. James slipped his arm around Q’s waist and kissed the side of his face. “They all wanted to stay. They refused to leave without you.” The pneumatic door opened and Alec bounced out, closely followed by the rest of their team mates.

“There’s out little Coxie!” He exclaimed, striding up to Q and carefully pulling him into a bear hug. “Bloody well done mate! You were brilliant! How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” Q admitted, “But so proud of you lot.”

“We couldn’t have done it without you.” Mallory said, coming in to hug Q.

“Seriously Q. Thank you so much.” Tanner added.

One by one each of the rowers hugged Q until the young man was looking quite overwhelmed. When they had all greeted him James stepped forward.

“Come on lads. Let’s get him home.”

They waited patiently as James helped Q up the steep steps onto the coach and then carried his crutches as Q used the seat backs to get himself to the back. James helped him to lie down across the wide back seat and then went to sit in one of the seats in front of him.

“Don’t. Please. Stay with me here?” Q asked quietly as the coach engines rumbled into life. James nodded and sat down by his head so Q could lie, facing forward, with his head on James’s thigh. Once he was comfortable he closed his eyes.

After a little while James realised he was shivering. He was still just dressed in the shorts he’d raced in and the coach was getting cold. James took out his phone and fired off a quick text to Alec. A moment later Alec came back up the coach, his fleece jacket in his hand.

“James said you were chilly.” He said quietly as he laid his jacket over Q’s legs. He went to sit back down and a moment later Villiers came back to offer his. Then Felix, then Bill until the whole team had piled their jackets up over him. James slipped his fingers up into Q’s hair and started to scrub light circles into his scalp with his fingertips.

“Go to sleep now, Q.”

Q nodded and within seconds he was asleep again.

~00Q~

Q had woken up just as they entered Cambridge and had spent the last few minutes of the journey sitting up, leaning heavily on James. He seemed warmer but James got the impression that his painkillers were wearing off again. He couldn’t wait to see him safely home, fed and comfortable for the night. Tanner had offered to call Q a taxi from the clubhouse but he wouldn’t hear of it. He only lived two minutes away, even on his crutches, and he had said he wanted a bit of fresh air. He’d asked James quietly if he minded carrying his kit for him and James said he didn’t. Q had smiled at that, resting his head on James’s shoulder again.

James felt a warmth pooling in the pit of his belly at Q’s little show of affection. All day long, for the past three days really, Q had amazed him with his bold spirit and open nature. There was no side to him, James realised, just an honest matter-of-fact desire to succeed. A desire that wasn’t cut-throat or aggressive but positive and hardworking. James had asked him out to dinner but he wondered how much more of James Q would want. Did Q feel the same way about James as James was beginning to suspect he felt about him? He hoped so, he really did.

The coach pulled up and there was the usual gaggle of club members and fellow students waiting for them. It was tradition for the team to sink a beer (or ten) in the clubhouse after the big race but James knew he wouldn’t be joining them that night. They waited until the rest of the passengers had got off the coach before Q slowly and painfully made his way back down the aisle. Once down the steps and safely back on his crutches, he bade everyone goodnight. There was a lot of congratulating and back slapping for both of them before James managed to lead Q away down the riverside path.

“Are you going to go back to join the party after you drop me off?” Q asked, once they were free of the crowd.

“No,” James replied, “It wouldn’t feel right being there without you.”

“But they’re your team. Your friends.” Q said, pausing.

James turned to face him, slipping his hands around his waist. 

“I have better things to do.” He said softly.

“Oh?”

James leaned in and kissed him deeply and thoroughly.

“I’m taking you home… and I want you to know, I’m not doing this so I can get my end away tonight. I’m doing it because you need someone to take care of you. Look after you. And I want to be the one to do it.”

Q smiled.

“Why Mr Bond. I do believe you have a soft spot for me.”

“I have something for you but I assure you, it’ll be far from soft.” James said solemnly.

Q giggled as James kissed him again, longer and slower this time. Q sighed and seemed to melt into him until he was leaning fully on him.

“Home, James, and don’t spare the horses.”

“Very witty.” James mock-grumbled. “I’ve never heard that one before…”

They began to move again and soon reached Q’s little house. James stood behind him, supporting Q’s hips as he fumbled out his door key. They went through to the lounge where James dropped their bags. He turned around just in time to see Q yawning.

“Right you, bed.”

Q slumped a little.

“I can’t. I’m bloody starving, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, I need a bath, I need to take more painkillers and I can’t do that until I’ve eaten…”

He looked so woebegone that James couldn’t help but go to him. He slipped his arms around him to hug him comfortingly.

“Go and have a bath then. I’ll order take out and you can eat it in bed. How does pizza sound?”

Q nodded.

“Will you stay and eat it with me?”

“If you like.” James said. “Will you be okay in the bathroom? Do you need me to come and scrub your back for you?”

“I think I can manage.” Q replied, “Although… I might need a hand getting back out of the tub.”

James laughed.

“Just give me a shout when you want me. What do you want on your pizza?”

“I don’t care. As long as it’s spicy.”

Q made his way upstairs while James phoned for Dominos. A large Catalan Chicken & Chorizo for James and a Hot and Spicy with extra chilli for Q. Once the order was in James went to the kitchen and made them tea before heading upstairs. He’d just deposited the mugs in the bedroom when he heard Q call.

He came into the bathroom and paused when he saw Q. He was laid back in the tub, his injured leg hooked over the rim, away from the water. He’d washed his hair and he looked like some kind of nymph, just risen from the depths. There were bubbles on the surface of the water that barely covered his crotch. James’s mouth went dry.

“Alright there?” Q asked, a smile on his lips, and James realised he’d been staring. He wandered over and put out his hands, intending to help Q up. “In a minute.” Q said softly. “Tell me what you’re thinking first.”

James sank to his knees beside the bath and Q reached out to take his hand.

“You’re lovely.” James said.

Q snorted out a little laugh.

“Hardly.”

“No,” James insisted, “You are, you’re really lovely and now I’m here…in your house… and it’s actually making me a little nervous.”

“Oh?” Q looked puzzled. “How so?”

James felt himself blushing, not quite believing that he was about to come clean with Q. It suddenly seemed so important that he was honest with him.

“I’ve never actually… you know, slept with another man and I’m worried that I might mess it up. You’re gorgeous and you deserve someone who knows what they’re doing and you must have had other lovers who…”

“I wouldn’t know the difference to be honest.” Q replied, interrupting him. James must have looked confused. “And I shouldn’t worry about a lack of experience, you’ve been with girls, right?” James nodded. “So that’s more than I’ve ever done. You’ll be a regular Casanova compared to me.”

James stared at him for a moment, not quite comprehending what Q was saying. He watched as Q sat up, cupping the back of James’s neck with damp fingers so he could kiss him.

“I’m a virgin James.” He chuckled. James was dumbfounded. After the previous evening in Q’s bed… He never would have believed it. “Probably because deep down, I’m a colossal nerd.” Q continued. “I’ve devoted so much time to my studies and my sports I never really took much notice of other men. Well, apart from you…”

“Me?”

“I told you in the locker room the other day. The first time I saw you race… fucking hell man, do you have any idea how fucking hot your thighs are in those little shorts?”

James burst out laughing, feeling a little of the nervous tension in his chest loosen.

“No,” He admitted, still laughing. “No idea at all.” He kissed Q again and then helped him to get out of the bath. He wrapped him in towels and then proceeded to kiss him breathless. “I’m going to take you to bed now and feed you the pizza when it gets here and when you’re ready, when you feel up to it, I’m going to make love to you and if have to wait until your cast is off I will because I have a feeling you’ll be worth the wait.”

“I’m not sure you’ll have to wait that long…” Q whispered.


	7. Chapter 7

SUNDAY, 12 MONTHS ON

_“Well, these are wonderful scenes on the bank of the Thames, scenes repeated every year as is tradition, as the winning crew’s Coxwains are tossed into the water to celebrate their victories. The Cambridge men’s crew, gathering around Thomas ‘Q’ Carter now as he comes up out of the water, are of course celebrating winning the race for the second year running with Q at the helm. There were remarkable scenes from last year’s race when Q led them to victory despite having suffered a badly broken ankle just minutes before the race. No sign of that injury now as he strides up out of the water and into the arms of the Cambridge team’s Stroke and Carter’s partner, James Bond, who… oh my word, they’re kissing… much to the approval of the cheering crowd it seems… and now the rest of the team are there, hugging him and slapping his back as well. An extremely popular young man by all accounts. How lovely to see all of these fine young men who obviously adore their Cox…”_

There was a muffled snort from the region of James’s chest and he looked down to see Q shaking in silent, near-hysterical laughter. It was Sunday afternoon and they were laid on the sofa together, a little over twenty-four hours since they’d won the race for the second year running.

James had been a little premature when he’d thought that the previous year would be his last. He’d done far better in his Master’s degree than he’d expected and had decided to stay on for an extra three years to obtain his PhD. He’d moved in with Q at the start of the new academic year after their relationship had blossomed into something far more comfortable than either of them would have ever dreamed.

“Something tickle you?” James asked. They’d recorded the BBC’s coverage of the race and decided to watch it after sleeping in late. The party at the clubhouse had gone on until the wee, small hours and they’d both been exhausted by the time they’d come home and spent an inordinate amount of time drunkenly shagging. Q shook and tears were seeping from his eyes as he snorted and tried to speak. Eventually he choked out;

_“Young men… adoring their cox…”_

“Well, we all do that, don’t we?” James asked, which only seemed to make Q laugh harder. The commentator’s off-hand comment must have really tickled him. James rolled slightly so they were pressed belly to belly and he had his back to the TV. “I mean, I love my Cox. I love my Cox’s cock too…” Q burst out laughing again as James reach down to slip his hands inside the loose jogging bottoms that Q was wearing and grip him. Q gasped and James used the opportunity to kiss him, pressing his tongue inside his mouth. That earned him a little moan and a shiver as Q pushed up into James’s fist. 

“Of course, you have a rather special Cox…” Q replied, still giggling as he reached down to pop the button on James’s jeans and reach inside.

“I do?

“Mmmmm. You have a Cox who happens to love stroking his Stroke’s cock.”

He wrapped his talented fingers around James’s cock and started to tug on him with a tight fist. James’s head fell back with a thud onto the arm of the sofa.

“Fuuuck,” He hissed, “You are so good at that…”

“Know what else I’m good at?” Q planted a kiss on the underside of James’s jaw before scooting down to pull his jeans off him.

“Is it fucking me because I think you should be fucking me right now …”

Q shook his head with a smile.

“You are such a slut at times James. _I_ fucked _you_ last night, remember? I’m pretty sure it’s my turn to ride your dick…”

Q dropped his head and took James into his mouth. James sighed and wound his fingers into Q’s hair. He had a point… he had two actually… that he was very good at sucking cock and it was Q’s turn for a diddling. When James first realised that he was attracted to men, the thought that he might like taking another man’s cock up his arse hadn’t really occurred to him but being with Q had soon put him straight on that score. So to speak. After a year of being together, ever since the night three days after the race when James had first tenderly taken Q’s virginity, his broken casted ankle supported by the bunched-up duvet and countless pillows, the sex had only got better and better. Both being initially naïve, they’d discovered what felt good together until James couldn’t ever imagine wanting anyone else.

He groped down under the coffee table next to them and pulled out a bottle of lube as he gently grabbed a handful of Q’s hair and tugged.

“You know I’m going to come too quick if you carry on like that.” He chided him quietly, “Come up here and take off your pants…”

Q grinned as he rushed to strip off his trousers and straddle James. Although his injury had affected his martial arts training badly, he was as flexible as ever and James felt a jolt of excitement, as he always did when he planted one foot on the sofa next to James’s hip and one foot on the floor, spreading his legs wide. He leaned over James and rested his hands on the arm of the sofa as James squeezed a dollop of lube onto his fingers and reached down to smear them between his legs.

“You’re always so eager for this…” He murmured as he slipped a finger inside. Q bit his lower lip.

“It feels so good. I love the way you prep me. Enough but not so much that I don’t feel the stretch when you slide your big cock into me…” 

He straightened up, keeping his balance as he stripped off his t-shirt. James admired him as he stretched up, his belly pulling taught. Fuck. Even after a year, James wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of seeing him naked. He pulled his fingers free and used more lube to slick up his bare cock. James had got himself tested a couple of times after getting together with Q – he’d had a couple of girlfriends before meeting him after all – to make sure he was clean for him. Q hadn’t bothered, he’d been a virgin when James had first bedded him after all. Q positioned himself and sank down, James resting his hands on his spread thighs as he took him in.

“Fuck, I love your cock.” Q sighed as he started to rock.

“That’s a coincidence – I’m pretty sure my cock loves you too.” Q laughed at that. “Actually,” James added quietly, “all of me does.”

Q stilled his movements for a moment.

“Really?” 

James nodded.

“I love you.”

Q grinned and leaned down to kiss him as he began to move his hips again.

“I love you too…”

He sat up again and James watched as Q began to work his hips harder, moving back and forth, his tight arse squeezing James’s cock beautifully. James lay still, mesmerised by Q’s naked body and absolutely certain that he would come in seconds if he started to thrust. Even so, he could feel himself getting close. He closed his eyes, hoping that it would help him to last a little longer. Q, the little shit, was having none of it. James felt him push his t-shirt up and start to kiss his chest, focusing on his nipples, something that Q knew full well drove him crazy.

“Fuck… Q please… I’m not going to last if you do that…”

“So?” Q whispered. “Don’t last.”

He bit down on one nipple and pinched the other and it was game over for James. He grabbed Q’s thighs and bucked up into him as everything released and he came deep inside him. Q cackled in victory as he immediately pulled off him and wriggled back until he was between James’s legs. Grabbing the lube, he slicked himself up and pressed his cock up against James’s arsehole.

“Open up for me big boy…” James huffed out a laugh at Q’s stupid pet name for him as he pushed down. Q wasn’t hugely endowed but it was more than big enough to be a challenge if James hadn’t been fingered first. They both jumped as Q lodged the head of his cock past the tight ring of muscle. “Oh yes. That’s it, James… take it all.” James was nowhere near as flexible as Q but he pulled his legs up to his chest and bore down as Q pushed, breaking out into a sweat as he was filled. Q looped his hands around his thighs and began to fuck him.

James felt his eyes threaten to roll into the back of his head as Q pushed his legs open and set up a bruising pace, taking what he needed for him to reach his own orgasm. James wasn’t going to come again but it felt so good to let Q use him like that. Once he seemingly had James’s legs where he wanted them, he leaned forward and rested his hands on his waist. His strokes became more fluid until he was thrusting into him. James reached up and cradled Q’s face in his hands, curling up and drawing it down so he could kiss him.

“Come for me baby?” He whispered in between kisses. Q nodded and then squeezed his eyes shut as his hips stuttered.

“James…”

He gasped and then groaned as he came, slumping over James as he continued to grind into him for a moment. They lay together, still joined for several minutes while Q’s cock slowly softened and eventually slipped free. He hummed with contentment as James shifted them until they were laying side by side, their legs still tangled. James kissed Q’s forehead when it looked like he was falling asleep and he opened one eye to peer up at him.

“Bath time?”

Q smiled and his eye slid shut again. 

“In a minute. Nap first. I’ve had a busy weekend.”

“You don’t say.” James murmured. “Okay. A nap sounds good…”

He closed his eyes and snuggled down and neither of them stayed awake long enough to notice when the TV finally fell silent as the recording finished.

~fin~


End file.
